


The Muses' Haven

by Elizabeth A Nield (KayleeArafinwiel)



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-17 12:13:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8143597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KayleeArafinwiel/pseuds/Elizabeth%20A%20Nield
Summary: Poetry based on Greek mythology, as it comes to me, will be posted here.





	1. Cygnet Princess' Hatching

 

 

Curled up tight in my brother's arms

The white, watery world grows smaller

Or is it we who grow larger? His heart

Beats against mine, thrusting, pounding

Nearby I hear two more, shuddering

As through a wall in our small world

Everything shakes; our time has come

Thrust forward, the world shatters

The water grows cool and tears fall

As my brother and I are held together

Castor and I, the mortal children

Nursing at our mother's breasts.

Beside us they lie still, waiting

Zeus' children, the two divine

Castor sated, mother lifts her

My sister, Helen, wondrous fair.

One day wars will be fought

Lives will be lost, hearts broken

All for love of Helen.

And yet I too will find love, though

None so dear as my brothers

Clinging to each other now,

As Castor once clung to me.

Ah, brother! Know one day

You will die, you and I both

And no matter how you try

Polydeuces cannot save you.

Yet as Helen and I are settled

Side by side, she turns from me

Helen, Dioscuri, and I – the last.

Clytemnestra am I, left alone.

 

 


	2. Arke and Iris

Sister mine, the other half of my soul

You were my twin and my heart's delight

Where are you now? As I am thrown down

 

Before the young king of the gods

The young usurper, the victorious champion

I weep as my iridescent wings are ripped

 

Torn away from my shoulders. I bleed

I weep blood and tears, tears and blood

Where are you, Iris? My sister, my brightness

 

Do you look from the heights?

Do you see me thrown down in my shame?

In Tartarus, we languish, we who were faithful

 

In pain and torment we eke out our immortality

You who cleaved to the new gods

the new order, you come down on high

 

On golden wings to paint the sky with colour.

I, Arke, am your shadow, your shame,

You will shine, and I will fade away...

 

...to nothing.


	3. Rolling Stone, Roll No More

 Up the hill a lone boulder rolls,

Pushed by Ephyra's king of old;

Down the hill it comes again.

Lo! He gives chase, weary in soul

Repeating his task for all time,

In eternal payment for his sins.

In Tartarus he atones for sins,

As up Hades' hill his burden rolls

This punishment, to the end of time

Sisyphus endures. The gods of old,

No pity give to this lost king, his soul

As up and down, he comes again.

This load they set him, and here again

Sisyphus hauls his burden in due time.

They come and go, the Dead; his soul

Alone remains on this hill as of old.

Son of Aeolus, lord of Thessaly, rolling

This boulder as the price for his sins,

Must this mortal be bound? The soul

Grieving now for his crimes of old,

Repenting, weeping, as he rolls

His boulder up and down. His sins

Were grievous, but must he cry again

For forgiveness? Pity him who for all time

Has been bound to this task! In our time

The forgiveness of sins, of lost souls

Is a price that has been paid. Men of old,

Prisoners of sin, who were doomed to roll

The burden of their myriad crimes, their sins

Can they not be forgiven? For here again

Comes One above all, bearing our sins

As a burden on His shoulders, Who again

Made Man in His image, a Son whose time

Was spent in saving the world's lost souls.

Could this not apply to the Dead of old?

O Saviour, lift away the stone Sisyphus rolls.

 

 


End file.
